Twisted
by DimensionDoor
Summary: “It’s such a shame your mind is as twisted as your tongue." Orochimaru and Sasori. Mild squick.


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Written listening to "Change" by deftones and in a mood with my mother. Since it's a big influence on the mood of the fic, I'm posting the chorus.

_ I took you home, set you on the glass  
I pulled off your wings - then I laughed  
I watched a change in you  
It's like you never had wings _

I don't own that song, or these characters. I do like to think this is how they act though, staying in-character is the most challenging part of a fanfic I find. Do review to tell me what you think, even just to tell me you hated it.

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It was almost hilarious, just how susceptible the admired and respected Orochimaru was to poisoning. Most people assumed the pale skin was for dramatic effect, as opposed to a sign of genuine sickliness. They were wrong in thinking so.

It was also laughable just how much he trusted his partner, the delicately faced Akasuna no Sasori when in a weakened state.

Sasori himself was sick of it, easily tired of mopping the older man's brow and being quiet and sympathetic.

So he had mixed one of his favourites, the particular concoction that undiluted ate through calcium easily. It had been a mistake, a simple mess-up with his poisons... Far too heavy in odour to use to destroy buildings. But it had it's uses. Injected into a subject, within half an hour they were boneless and defenceless- so of course Zetsu favoured the stuff.

The white substance was easily masked by something similar in viscosity, in this case chicken soup. For the poor invalid.

To be fair, the redhead had no idea what it would do to the digestive system. But he hoped it hurt. Anything to get the snake out of his way, his low hiss of a voice out of his mind.

00flashbackbegin00

"Such a pretty face... You were such a pretty boy, Sasori-san."

"Shut up." The redhead had no time for mockeries, and even less patience for romantics. He looked over the page of his book to send the other a weighty glower, only to find Orochimaru standing and looking at him with interest. "Go away."

"He even /speaks/ like a spoilt child would... One would think with all the self-mutilation and murder he'd grow up a bit." Yellow eyes flashed, amused.

"One would be mistaken. It's not like age matters to me anyway, I'm going to live forever. Remember?"

A dry cluck of a laugh, a pale finger pushing against thin lips to hush the chuckles. "Of course, Sasori-san. It's art, isn't it?"

He truly hated patronizing attitudes. He hated his partner, on reflection. So he said nothing, flicking a page. There was something quite hilarious about thriller novels, he found.

"If my experiments are a success, we can live forever together. Won't that be fun?"

The redhead was aware of this as well, which was why he'd been dropping hydrochloric acid into all of the sannin's test-tubes. So even if one of his ridiculous prototypes did succeed, he wouldn't be able to do it again. The tallers use of "together" made his stomach turn.

"Don't get any ideas. I don't plan to stay here very long."

"Oh?" Sasori /hated/ that face, the little smile with a quirk of the heavily-plucked eyebrows. It meant Orochimaru was amused.

"If someone defeats me in battle, I will flee. And start all over again, make better puppets, improve my skill. My legend will live on. For /that/ is art, persistence driving one to continue until the infinite collapse."(1)

"The infinite will never collapse, surely?"

"Then neither will I. The red sands will never be covered, the scorpion never truly dies." The redhead hoped his answers were big and flashy enough to scare the other away. He didn't care how big-headed he sounded, he had every confidence he could do it.

Yellow eyes blinked carefully. "I'm almost lulled into believing you think such serene things. Only your speech could make an eternity of bloodshed sound beautiful. It's a shame your mind isn't as pretty as your face." At this last comment, the hitokugutsu shuddered.

"It's such a shame your mind is as twisted as your tongue. Go away."

"Such a beautiful body, even ripped up and patched up and soaked all-over in blood..." His raspy voice had dropped lower, near enough to a purr.

"This 'beauty', as you so stupidly put it, was designed entirely for combat reasons."

"So giving yourself a lithe, appealing frame was an /accident/" A hint of a smirk.

"Lightweight. I wouldn't be able to run if I was Kisame's size. And I'd have to make far too many altera-" The hand smoothing his hair froze up his whole body.

"You can talk all you want, but you're still a beautiful little boy to me."

"I'm 44 years old, for fucks sake!" He spat this roughly, far too annoyed with his partner. He hated admitting his age, he had managed to avoid doing so up till now.

"And I'm 50. I don't look it either, I know."

In response, the redhead hurled a shuriken. The conversation was, whatever way you looked at it, over. Orochimaru left, laughing to himself.

00Endflashback00

And it worked. Something bad was happening, Sasori could hear the gags and groans upstairs in the main hall.

He folded the corner of his page over, and made his way down. To watch.

"You..." And the hiss was interrupted by a painful retch. Sasori shut the door behind him and smiled.

"I'm here. What of it?"

"This stuff is evil..." He spat roughly, narrowing his eyes at his partner.

With a grin, the redhead realised something- he wasn't aware he'd been poisoned twice.

"You're a fucking mess, Orochimaru." All truth, as long black hair hung limply, pale skin looking even more sallow than usual. Dark rings circled those hateful, sharp eyes.

"I'm dying."

With a smirk, the redhead took a seat on the cabinet next to the bed- where the other man lay in a tangle on sodden sheets. "So much for your eternal life idea."

"I'm lying in my own bodily fluids, you know."

"Which ones?"

"The unimportant ones."

"Then must you make such a /fuss?" The suna-nin was glad his plan was going so splendidly. And the other was too delirious from fever to flirt with him heavily, also a bonus.

"You did this." It was whimpered into the blankets. The black haired man arched painfully, groaning awful curses.

"I did."

"Why?" One eye was visible, peeping through the greasy hair.

"I'm not sure..." Sasori sat closer, watching the face contort with agony. "Whether I get a kick out of watching you fall from grace like this, or whether I just wanted you out of my way."

"We could have been a team." It sounded like the other was crying. With any luck it was fluid filling his lungs adding that wet sound to his breaths.

"I don't work well with people. You know that... Why does it matter to you anyway?"

There was a gag. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving? For good?" The redheads smile, if possible, grew.

"I'm taking the boy, your mole." It made sense, the kid he'd handed over to the Yakushis was a decent enough medic by now.(2)

Sasori nodded. "If I ever see you again I'll just tear your stomach open, you do know that?" He gave the other a hand up, smirking.

"That's so /heartless/ of you, Sasori-chan."

His smirk turned sour. "That stuff is probably rotting your insides as we speak. But don't vomit it up... It'll eat your teeth away as well."

Orochimaru did look like a zombie, his eyes were glazing over. But he dressed fairly quickly in spite of it, not pausing to pick up his cloak, or even a scroll. "What are you going to tell the others?"

"I'm not. Don't feel the need to hurry back..." He waved breezily, not liking how close the others face was to his- the stench of bile did nothing to help the awkwardness either.

The light press of lips against his cheek set his blood boiling with rage. Sasori swore loudly.

But the other was already gone.

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(1) This is my theory. I am a Sasori-fangirl. HE IS NOT DEAD ;O;

(2) Well, Kabuto is Sasori's spy later on in the manga, so...

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